作者：许远舟

编辑：李晶 校对：熊辩 翻译：吕峰

1989年6月4日，中共政府用枪解决了一个问题。

那个问题叫：人民想要说话。

1989年5月，北京的春天格外热。天安门广场上聚集了来自全国各地的学生，最多时超过万人。他们带着帐篷、带着广播，搭起了临时的”民主大学”。他们喊的不是推翻政府，而是对话、反腐败、新闻自由。诉求并不激进，激进的是政府的回应。

6月3日深夜，坦克从长安街两端开进来。有学生站在坦克前不肯让路，有市民试图用身体阻拦军队。枪声在夜里响起，不是警告，是实弹。医院里彻夜灯火通明，走廊上躺满了伤者。有人死在广场，有人死在回家的路上，有人死在自己窗边，只是听见了动静探头看了一眼。那一夜，北京的街道上满是血。然后天亮了，军队清场了，广场冲洗干净了。好像什么都没发生过。

那一夜死了多少人，没有官方数字。不是不知道，是中共不让说。一个叫丁子霖的母亲，她的儿子死在了长安街，她用后半生记录名字：237个，后来更多。每一个名字背后，是一扇再也没有等到人回来的门。

一年，两年，三十七年过去了。中共没有道歉，没有赔偿，没有一个人被追责。那些失去孩子的母亲们等了三十七年，等来的是每年这一天被软禁在家。中共这个政权，杀了人，还不让你哭。

三十七年前，那些高高在上的领导们说，这是”政治风波”，已经”正确处理”。但直到今天，你不能在微博上写”五月三十五日”，你不能在微信上发一支蜡烛，你不能在天安门广场上静静站着。一件他们自己说”处理好了”的事，为什么连提都不能提？是因为心虚，才需要这么多锁。

他们设计了一套完整的遗忘机器。不只是删帖、封号、屏蔽关键词，而是从娃娃抓起。’我们的教科书里没有“六·四”，课堂上没有“六·四”，连父母也不敢在孩子面前提起。一代一代的传承，传的不是真相，是沉默。这种沉默不是自然形成的，是被精心制造的。

今天中国的年轻人，很多是在完全的信息封锁下长大的。他们不知道1989年发生了什么，不是因为不想知道，是因为从来没有机会知道。我不怪他们，我怪的是那个系统性地偷走他们记忆的政权。如果你今天看到这篇文章，请记住一件事：你的国家，曾经对你的父辈举起枪。

以前的德国为奥斯维辛道了歉，南非也为种族隔离道了歉。至于中共？一个字都没有！不是因为不知道自己做了什么，是因为他们今天还在做同样的事。道歉意味着承认，承认意味着改变，改变意味着他们下台。所以他们选择：让你忘记这一切！

镇压发生后，西方世界最初是愤怒的。美国、欧洲纷纷发表谴责声明，部分国家实施了对华武器禁运。但愤怒是短暂的，生意是长久的。九十年代，西方资本潮水般涌入中国。中共用经济增长换来了国际社会的沉默，用市场准入换来了外国政府的失忆。三十七年过去了，那些当年谴责中共的国家大多数早已与北京称兄道弟。他们选择了利益，把那一夜的血留给历史去记录，如果历史还被允许记录的话。

一个永远不需要被选举、永远不需要被问责、永远不会下台的政权，是人类历史上最危险的政治结构之一。不是因为领导人一定是坏人，而是因为这个结构本身会制造坏的结果，权力腐蚀人，绝对权力绝对腐蚀人，这不是道德判断，这是历史规律。“六·四”是一个极端的例子，但它不是孤例。文化大革命是，大跃进是，新疆是，香港是。每一次都是同一套逻辑：党的存续高于一切，包括人命。只要这个结构不改变，类似的事情就不会停止。

“六·四”事件之后，一批人离开了中国。他们在海外建立了杂志、电台、组织，几十年如一日地记录、呼号、坚持。他们老了，有的已经走了。他们最深的恐惧不是被遗忘，而是：等他们这一代人都走了，还有没有人记得那一夜？还有没有人愿意继续说下去？这篇文章，也是一个回答。

1989年站在广场上的年轻人，今天很多已经五六十岁了。他们的孩子，很多不知道那一夜发生了什么。不是父母不想说，是说了有危险。这叫什么？这叫对下一代的二次谋杀！

“六·四”不是历史。“六·四”是他们至今仍在使用的执政逻辑，谁敢说”不”就让谁消失。房山的铲车、信宜的警棍、江油的催泪弹，同一套手段，在三十七年后换了个地方在用。

但历史从来不会自动走向公正。纽伦堡审判不是自然发生的，南非真相与和解委员会也不是自然发生的，“六·四”的真相与追责也不会从天上掉下来。它需要每一个还记得的人拒绝假装忘记，需要每一个能自由说话的人替那些不能开口的人说出来。不让那些死去的人，死得无声无息，好像从来不存在！

今天，无论你在哪里，请说出来，请转发出去。记住那些名字，不要让他们的沉默变成所有人的沉默！

别忘，永远别忘！

After the Gunfire, Thirty-Seven Years of Silence

Author: Xu Yuanzhou

Editor: Li Jing　

Proofreader: Xiong Bian　　

Translator: Lyu Feng

On June 4, 1989, the Chinese Communist Party government used guns to solve a problem. That problem was: the people wanted to speak.

In May 1989, the spring in Beijing was unusually hot. Students from all over the country gathered in Tiananmen Square, at times exceeding one hundred thousand. They brought tents and loudspeakers and set up a temporary “Democracy University.” What they demanded was not to overthrow the government, but dialogue, an end to corruption, and freedom of the press. Their demands were not radical; what was radical was the government’s response.

Late on the night of June 3, tanks rolled in from both ends of Chang’an Avenue. Some students stood in front of the tanks and refused to move; ordinary citizens tried to block the army with their bodies. Gunfire rang out in the night—not warning shots, but live ammunition. The hospitals stayed brightly lit all night, with the injured lying along the corridors. Some died in the square, some on their way home, and some by their own windows—simply because they heard the noise and looked out. That night, Beijing’s streets ran with blood. Then dawn broke, the army cleared the square, it was washed clean, and it was as if nothing had happened.

No official figure exists for how many people died that night. It is not that the number is unknown, but that the CCP will not allow it to be spoken. A mother named Ding Zilin lost her son on Chang’an Avenue. She spent the rest of her life recording names: 237, and later even more. Behind every name is a door that never again welcomed its person home.

One year, two years, thirty-seven years have passed. The CCP has offered no apology, no compensation, and not a single person has been held accountable. The mothers who lost their children waited thirty-seven years, only to be placed under house arrest every year on this day. This CCP regime killed people and still will not let you mourn.

Thirty-seven years ago, the high and mighty leaders called it a “political disturbance” that had been “correctly handled.” But to this day, you cannot write “May 35th” on Weibo, you cannot post a candle on WeChat, and you cannot stand quietly in Tiananmen Square. Why is something they claim to have “handled properly” still forbidden to even mention? It is because they are guilty, and that is why they need so many locks.

They have built a complete machine of forgetting. It is not only about deleting posts, banning accounts, and blocking keywords—it starts from childhood. Our textbooks contain no “June 4th,” classrooms teach no “June 4th,” and even parents dare not mention it in front of their children. Generation after generation passes down not the truth, but silence. This silence is not natural; it is deliberately manufactured.

Many young people in China today grew up under complete information blockade. They do not know what happened in 1989—not because they do not want to know, but because they never had the chance. I do not blame them. I blame the regime that systematically stole their memory. If you are reading this article today, please remember one thing: your country once turned its guns on your parents’ generation.

Germany apologized for Auschwitz. South Africa apologized for apartheid. As for the CCP? Not a single word! It is not that they do not know what they did, but that they are still doing the same things today. An apology would mean admission; admission would mean change; change would mean they step down. So they choose to make you forget it all!

After the crackdown, the Western world was initially furious. The United States and Europe issued statements of condemnation, and some countries imposed arms embargoes on China. But anger is short-lived, while business is long-term. In the 1990s, Western capital flooded into China like a tidal wave. The CCP traded economic growth for the international community’s silence and market access for foreign governments’ amnesia. Thirty-seven years later, most of the countries that once condemned the CCP are now on brotherly terms with Beijing. They chose profit and left the blood of that night to be recorded by history—if history is still allowed to record it.

A regime that never needs to be elected, never needs to be held accountable, and will never step down is one of the most dangerous political structures in human history. Not because its leaders are necessarily bad people, but because the structure itself produces bad outcomes. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely—this is not a moral judgment, but a historical law. “June 4th” is an extreme example, but it is not an isolated one. The Cultural Revolution was, the Great Leap Forward was, Xinjiang is, and Hong Kong is. Every time it follows the same logic: the survival of the Party comes above all else, including human lives. As long as this structure remains unchanged, similar things will not stop.

After the June 4th incident, a group of people left China. Overseas, they founded magazines, radio stations, and organizations. For decades, they have recorded, called out, and persisted. They have grown old; some have already passed away. Their deepest fear is not being forgotten themselves, but this: when their generation is gone, will anyone still remember that night? Will anyone still be willing to keep speaking? This article is also an answer.

The young people who stood in the square in 1989 are now mostly in their fifties or sixties. Many of their children still do not know what happened that night. It is not that the parents do not want to tell them, but that speaking out is dangerous. What is this? This is a second murder of the next generation!

“June 4th” is not history. “June 4th” is the governing logic they still use today: whoever dares to say “no” is made to disappear. The bulldozers in Fangshan, the police batons in Xinyi, the tear gas in Jiangyou—the same methods, thirty-seven years later, deployed in different places.

But history never automatically moves toward justice. The Nuremberg trials did not happen naturally, nor did South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Truth and accountability for “June 4th” will not fall from the sky either. It requires every person who still remembers to refuse to pretend to forget. It requires every person who can speak freely to speak for those who cannot. We must not let those who died perish in silence, as if they never existed!

Today, no matter where you are, please speak out and please share this. Remember those names. Do not let their silence become everyone’s silence!

Never forget. Never forget!